


Baby, Please Come Home

by iwillpaintasongforlou



Series: Wrapped it Myself (even has a little bow on it) [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blowjobs, Hand Jobs, Lap Dances, Lingerie, M/M, Sexting, christmas smutttt yasssss, there's also a cute fluffy scene leading up to it, where harry is a damsel in distress and louis his knight in shining armor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 16:06:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2818160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillpaintasongforlou/pseuds/iwillpaintasongforlou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i><b>(Harry, 8:17 AM)</b> Hurry up louuuuuu don’t you want to unwrap your presents…?</i>
</p>
<p>There isn’t enough time for Louis to reply before another texts comes in, a photo which, when Louis clicks on it, might be the most glorious thing he’s ever seen. It’s Harry, all laid out like a playboy bunny in front of the Christmas tree, naked from head to toe except for a giant red ribbon tied around him in a pretty bow. One strand goes down from his chest over the butterfly and between the laurel leaves and slips in between thighs that Louis wants nothing more in this world right now than to mark up with lovebites, or else spread apart.</p>
<p>
  <i><b>(Louis, 8:18 AM)</b> I’ll be there as soon as I can, don’t move!!!!</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, Please Come Home

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to (and art courtesy of) tumblr user xzaidiax, one of the fandom's most talented and underrated fanartists, for her gorgeous contribution to my fanart challenge!

Since meeting and falling in love with Louis, there are lots of things that 20 year-old Harry Styles can’t do by himself. He can’t make a choice when looking off a menu (Louis always offers such great suggestions), he can’t bring himself to a proper orgasm (Louis’ hands and mouth and _cock_ have got him spoiled, honestly), and for fuck’s sake he can’t even get through the week (at least, not without his chest aching from missing Louis so much). In a lot of ways, Harry’s a little useless without the 22 year-old.

But when Louis suggests that Harry wait until he’s come home to hang up the Christmas decorations because “–you’ll hurt yourself, babe, just let me help you!” Harry just categorically refuses. He’s a grown man more than capable of decorating a Christmas tree without supervision. Christmas cannot be stopped and neither can Harry.

Everything is going according to plan until Harry starts to get a little ambitious. He figures there are multiple things that need to be wound around the Christmas tree, lights and garland and ribbon and such, so rather than walking around the tree a thousand times like an idiot, it would be a good plan to do it all at once. The lights he drapes around his shoulders, then wraps the garland across him like a sash. The ribbon he unfurls from the spool and wraps around one forearm. His reflection in the hall mirror looks a little bit ridiculous, but Harry also thinks that he is perhaps the most prepared individual on the planet when it comes to Christmas decorating. Not only will he be able to decorate his flat by himself, but Louis will also have to eat his words when he comes over later and finds that Harry's done it in record time.

“That'll teach you not to have any faith in me, Tomlinson,” Harry mutters to himself. He begins to make his orbit around the Christmas tree, attaching the strands near the top and draping them over branches as he goes. The ribbon slips off and wraps awkwardly around his wrist, but Harry compensates for this by twisting a little the next time he rounds the corner of the tree. Unfortunately, this causes one of the loops on the lights around his neck to suddenly get tighter. Harry comes to a stop and considers the situation. If he can duck under his garland sash and take 3 steps backwards to loosen up the lights, and he should have enough room to fix the ribbon and be on his way–

Somewhere in his brilliant plan Harry has made a miscalculation, because instead of freeing himself from the tangling confines of his decorations, Harry suddenly finds himself careening towards the floor with strands of holiday cheer wound around him in every direction. He hits the floor with a loud thud and for one terrifying second he watches the Christmas tree teeter and begin to fall right towards him. Luckily there's enough mobility in Harry's left foot to enable him to kick out just before the Christmas tree plops on top of him and redirect it to the carpet beside him instead.

Harry takes a good long moment to assess the situation, wiggling what little he could within his chains and checking for bumps and bruises, which he seems to be largely free of. Only then does he allow himself to heave a great sigh. “Louis is going to have a field day.”

He gives it a full five minutes of effort trying to free himself before he realizes that this is futile. He's thoroughly trapped himself in his ambition, which might be poetic if it weren't for the fact that he'll probably die here on his living room floor. It takes him another five minutes to suck up his pride and realize that the only way he's getting out of the situation is Louis, who might actually be able to come save him but will almost undoubtedly hold this over Harry's rueful head for the next several lifetimes.

It isn't an attractive thought, but Harry absolutely refuses to die when he still has overdue books to turn in at the library, so he wiggles a hand into his front pocket, grabs his phone, and tosses it on the carpet next to him. After some maneuvering, he's able to get his face close enough for his voice to be picked up.

“Call Louis,” he says loudly and clearly. The phone recognizes the command and the screen lights up, little spinning circle indicating that the machine is thinking. After a few suspenseful moments, an error message with a little frowny face appears informing him that the command was not completed because there's no such name in his contacts. Harry rolls his eyes and tries again. “Call Lewis.”

A brief pause, and then a ringing sound as Louis’ phone is dialed. He picks up just before it goes to voicemail. “Hello?”

“Louis, hi, how are you?” Harry says with a nervous laugh. “What are you up to?”

“Oh, just filming a movie. No big deal. What's up with you?”

For an A-list celebrity, Louis is surprisingly flippant about his career whenever it comes up in conversation. Mostly he only talks about it when he’s defending his right to buy Harry ridiculous and expensive things. Harry's face flushes. “If you’re like actually filming and you can't talk, that's okay,” he backtracks, despite the fact that he’s bound on the floor of his apartment and he's starting to feel the urge to have to pee. “I can call back later.”

“No, no, you're fine, babe,” Louis assures him. “I picked up, didn't I? If I couldn't talk, I wouldn't have picked up. So what's up? Everything okay?”

Here comes the hard part. Harry hesitates a little before answering. “Don't you dare laugh at me, okay?”

“I can't guarantee that,” Louis replies carefully, “but I can promise to still love you even if I laugh at you?”

It'll have to do. “So I was trying to decorate my Christmas tree, right? And like, I thought it would be a good idea to try to do the lights and the garland and the ribbon and stuff all at the same time, and I've sort of had a little accident.”

There's instantly concern in Louis’ voice. “An accident? Are you okay? What happened? Where are you, are you at the hospital?”

“No, no, nothing like that. I'm fine. I'm on my living room floor.”

“Oh.” There's a long pause. “Do you _need_ to be at the hospital?”

“Not that I know of. Seriously, I'm fine. I just need a little assistance getting up off the floor.”

Louis groans. “Harry, just come out with it and tell me what happened,” he says wearily. “You're stressing me out with all this vagueness. I worry about you enough as it is.”

Harry heaves another great sigh, what feels like his dozenth of the morning. “I got tangled up in the lights in the garland and stuff, and now my arms and legs are trapped and I can't get up. Okay? Louis, stop laughing!”

“I can't help it, that's bloody hilarious,” Louis says in between bursts of guffaws. “Are you serious? Okay, okay, stay right there, we’ll call lunch break early and I'll come to get you. Hey, stop your complaining!” he yells to people who seem to be protesting in the background. “I’m meant to be playing a knight in shining armor. This is just another experience for the method acting, innit?” His voice gets softer as he returns to Harry. “Seriously, I'll be there as quick as I can, okay? I've got you.”

“Thank you,” Harry exhales in relief. “I love you.”

“I love you too, my damsel in distress.”

…………………

As predicted, Louis is no less infuriating when he arrives on the scene, and enters the flat with the spare key that Harry gave him. “Have no fear, princess,” he announces, striking a pose in the entryway like someone ought to be painting a portrait of him. “Sir Louis of Doncaster has come to save the day.”

“Would you just come untie me?” Harry grumbles with a rolls his eyes.

Louis makes no move to do so, instead standing back and surveying the scene. “Bondage, kinky. I like it, it looks good on you. I didn't think you were the type to be into that sort of thing, though.”

“You shouldn't stereotype kinks,” Harry says haughtily. “Everybody likes to be tied up now and again. Not right now though, right now I really have to pee.”

Louis stares at him agog. “Okay, so we're definitely revisiting that bondage conversation again sometime, but for right now let's get you free, yeah?”

He kneels and starts the intricate process of unwrapping Harry, one string of decorations at of time.  
Harry does his best to keep still and not entangle himself any worse. “Did you know that voice command won't let me call you unless I say Lewis?” he says by way of conversation.

“Is that so? I’ll have to speak to somebody in charge about that. The Prime Minister, perhaps, or the queen. Such injustices cannot continue.” Finally the last strand is lifted off of Harry and Louis hops to his feet with victorious crow. “There you are, love, good as new. _Now_ are you going to wait until I get home tonight to do attempt number two?

“You can't stay a little longer and help me now?” Harry pouts. “I'm excited, I want to get these up.”

“I know you do,” Louis smiles, “but contrary to popular belief, just because I'm the headliner in the movie doesn't mean I get to play hookie during filming. Really halts progress, apparently. Tonight, though, I promise.”

Harry wrinkles his nose in displeasure but nods and accepts a kiss as consolation, following Louis towards the front door to lock it behind him and then head for the bathroom before he explodes. “Hey!” he says when he catches sight of himself in the hall mirror. “You forgot to get the bow out of my hair.” He must have fallen on the stack of presents during his tussle with the Christmas tree, because there's a giant sticky red bow atop his curls.

Louis opens the door and turns around to give him a grin. “Left it on purpose. Bows suit you, princess,” he tells Harry with a wink before disappearing back into the cold.

He should have at least stayed long enough to allow Harry to attempt to give a comeback, but he _has_ given Harry some inspiration. As an idea grows in his mind, Harry comes to realize that he has some last minute shopping to do. Very _festive_ last minute shopping.

Right after he pees.

…………………

Maybe it’s the fact that he’s a spoiled diva –almost definitely it’s the fact that he’s a spoiled diva –but Louis hates having to get out of bed before eight. He’s always figured it’s reasonable to demand to sleep at least that late since his paycheck depends on looking good and a man needs his beauty rest, but Harry figures it’s reasonable to declare that Christmas presents _must_ be opened prior to nine A.M. and in the end Louis is largely helpless to deny Harry anything he wants. All of which means that it’s Christmas morning and Louis is dragging himself out of bed at seven thirty so he can shower, make tea, and drive over to do presents at Harry’s place.

Admittedly, he’s being very slow about it. It’s a quarter after eight and he’s still watching water boil, which means his timeline is skewed enough that he might actually be in danger of missing Harry’s deadline. He’s aware of this because Harry is already awake and practically vibrating with excitement over at his place, and is demanding progress updates from Louis via texts that would be infuriating if they weren’t so charming.

Louis checks the temperature of his drink –boiling hot, so just right –as his phone buzzes with another text from Harry.

**_(Harry, 8:17 AM)_ ** _Hurry up louuuuuu don’t you want to unwrap your presents…?_

There isn’t enough time for Louis to reply before another texts comes in, a photo which, when Louis clicks on it, might be the most glorious thing he’s ever seen. It’s Harry, all laid out like a playboy bunny in front of the Christmas tree, naked from head to toe except for a giant red ribbon tied around him in a pretty bow. One strand goes down from his chest over the butterfly and between the laurel leaves and slips in between thighs that Louis wants nothing more in this world right now than to mark up with lovebites, or else spread apart.

He presses the heel of his hand into his dick, which is hardening at a rather alarming rate, and pours his tea into a travel mug. _I’ll be there as soon as I can, don’t move!!!!_ he texts as he stumbles and skates down the front walk with reckless abandon. Safety is nice and all that, but Harry is out there in lingerie and some things in life are just too important to miss.

…………………

Harry deliberately disobeys Louis’ order not to move, but figures he’ll be forgiven since it’s only to curl up on the couch next to the tree. Minutes drag on. He takes his phone out and snaps another picture, arches his back and takes it from just beneath his chin so you can see planes of skin and ribbon on his torso ending with the faint outline of a bulge beneath the silk. He sends it to Louis, a little cruelly.

**_(Harry, 8:31 AM)_ ** _Might put on a jumper and some jeans instead, wouldn’t want to catch a cold…_

**_(Louis, 8:33 AM)_ ** _No jumpers!!! Five minutes out I swear_

He’s there in three and a half, door slamming behind him to announce his arrival. “Louis! How nice of you to finally join us,” Harry teases with a little giggle. “I was starting to wonder if you weren’t interested in pres–”

Harry is interrupted by Louis, who reaches the couch and smothers his words with a kiss as he takes Harry by the knees, swings them around to face forward, and parts them so he can fall to his own between Harry’s thighs. “Very interested,” he says simply, grabbing Harry by the hips and shifting him forward, mouthing over his cock through the ribbon. “Where did you even get this?”

“Online,” Harry replies proudly. “I saw it one time while I was looking for panties-” (Louis moans) “-and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to get it, but then when we were doing the tree you said bows suit me, so I figured it was probably a good look for me.”

“It’s a gorgeous look for you,” Louis affirms, fingertips grazing up Harry’s sides. “I almost don’t want to unwrap you, but unfortunately it’s covering up some of your best bits.”

He tugs one dangling end of the bow and pulls gently until the knot falls apart and the ribbon is just draped loosely on Harry’s skin. Louis pushes the strand aside and takes one of Harry’s nipples into his mouth, hand ready to slip behind Harry for support when his back arches because he knows his boy and every twitch of his body. He drags the flat of his tongue over the little nub, loving the texture of its hardness against his own soft mouth. His cheeks hollow as he sucks lightly, tongue pointing to run circles around the tip until Harry is squirming and a little breathless beneath him.

He’s just about to move on to the next one –all things in balance, very important –when the movement of his head is intercepted. Harry has a hand tangled in Louis’ hair and is pushing him downwards, very gently, more like a suggestion than a demand. Louis goes with it at once, happily dropping his head to the apex of Harry’s thighs and taking his cock in mouth.

It’s hard to tell who loves this more; Harry has a skillful mouth working on his length and zings of pleasure running through his body, but it’s Louis who gets to taste Harry, to feel the weight of him on his tongue, to hear his little whimpers and know he’s the cause. Louis has always thought that Harry has the loveliest cock he’s ever seen and he’d be hard-pressed to pass up a chance to enjoy it anyways, but the way that Harry is always so _responsive_ makes getting on his knees unusually high on Louis’ list of favorite pastimes.

Harry drapes one leg over Louis’ shoulder and props the other up on the cushion beside him, framing Louis in those beautiful thighs. The man can’t help but reach up as he continues to bob on Harry’s cock, running his hands over smooth skin and muscle and that fine hair that looks so good with cum smeared all in it. The thought makes Louis moan, which makes Harry cry out, which makes Louis feel more than a little lightheaded.

He grounds himself by pushing down further on Harry’s cock, feeling it nudge the back of his throat and start to gag him slightly, but that only serves to egg him on further. He keeps bobbing, keeps pressing forward, until Harry’s whines turn into gasps and he starts to thumb over Louis’ cheekbones and eyelashes. Louis knows then that it won’t be long, because Harry is a ridiculous sap who tends to get sentimental right before he comes, murmuring sweetnesses and praise if he has the breath to and just touching Louis gently if he doesn’t.

Sure enough, he’s running a knuckle down Louis’ jawline when his body tenses up, freezes for one breathless moment, and then he’s coming in the back of Louis’ mouth and mewling at the feel of Louis’ greedy tongue at his slit. He attempts to say something that comes out as gibberish and doesn’t appear to notice, dropping his head against the back of the couch with a sigh of relief.

“Fucking love Christmas,” Louis says hoarsely when he pulls off, exactly as lascivious as you’d expect from someone with cum at the corner of his mouth. “Best holiday by far.”

It takes a few more steadying breaths before Harry can reply, but when he’s stable he takes his leg from over Louis shoulder and nudges him backwards with one foot. “Lie on your back,” he commands weakly, eyelashes still fluttering in recovery.

Louis obeys at once, knocking his head on the lower branches of the tree as he hurries to lie back on the carpet. He’s rather pretty like this, Harry decides as he slides off the couch to straddle Louis. He has glitter adhering to the sheen of sweat on his skin and his face is framed by all manner of Christmas cheer, lights of the tree throwing down their sparkling light onto the angles of a face that’s stunning even on its worst days.

“Did I make you hard?” he asks shakily, slipping a hand down Louis’ torso.

“Almost made me come in my pants,” Louis answers, confirmed by the way his cock is rock hard and practically throbbing beneath Harry’s touch.

“I bet you I _could_ make you come in your pants,” muses Harry, eyes alight as he lets his hips drop and teasingly brush over Louis’ bulge. “The great and mighty Louis Tomlinson, Sexiest Man Alive 2013, having to change his boxers because I gave him a lap dance. Think I could do that?”

“You’re about to, honestly, fuck.” Louis looks positively unwell with how much he needs it, breath ragged and fingers digging into Harry’s hips where they tease and grind Harry’s bum down on his long-teased cock. “You can make me come however you like, baby, so long as you make me come.”

Harry presses his hips down and the sudden pressure makes Louis pant and arch his back up off the floor, eyes slamming shut like he’s trying to hold himself together. He doesn’t get the sensation for long, though, because soon Harry is lifting his hips and reaching down to unbutton Louis’ jeans and push them down until the waistband of his boxers rests beneath his balls. “I wouldn’t do that to you, not today anyways,” he murmurs, leaning up to kiss Louis while he starts to pull him off. “That wouldn’t be in the holiday spirit, now would it?”

Louis doesn’t answer, just closes his eyes and enjoys the feeling of Harry’s hand working him over. It doesn’t take long, and rather than attempting to form words he just reaches up one hand to tug his tee shirt up so when he arches his back and comes, it lands on the soft skin of his tummy instead of his clothes. “Thank you,” Louis means to say, but it somehow comes out a slightly slurred, “Merry Christmas!”

With another kiss and a delighted laugh, Harry scoots down until he can mouth at Louis’ stomach, lapping up the cum that’s collected there and swallowing it down like a Christmas delicacy. When he’s done, he lays down and rests his head on Louis’ stomach, waiting for the older man to regain motor function.

It takes a minute, and then Louis sighs contentedly. “I think I could probably just stay right here forever. I think I’ll just lie here and look up at the lights until approximately New Year’s. That sound good?”

“You’d miss presents at your mom’s place later,” Harry says thoughtfully. “I thought you couldn’t wait to see your sisters’ faces when they opened their gifts?”

“Gifts can wait,” Louis insists. “I need a nap.”

It goes against every Christmas-loving fiber of Harry’s being to lie still and watch Louis fall asleep there on the floor beneath the tree, because it’s almost half-ten before he wakes up and they do Christmas. He justifies it with the thought that _he,_ at least, was unwrapped before nine, and Louis looks so lovely when he sleeps that it’s a gift unto itself. He can snooze away Christmas with the love of his life if he wants. That’s allowed. It’s the holidays, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're curious, Harry wound up with carpet burn all down his front later that morning because Harry unwrapped a box of lacy panties "From Harry, to Harry (and Louis)" and Louis sort of lost it. All's fair for the holidays, though, right? :P
> 
> Tomorrow is some sugardaddy au where businessman Louis comes home from his trip on Christmas night to surprise his baby and gets a Christmas surprise of his own... ;)
> 
> canonlarry | tumblr


End file.
